


Butterflies

by KingOfFanfiction



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, happy ending (I guess), slight!elounor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:09:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfFanfiction/pseuds/KingOfFanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael pines and ties Niall to butterflies.</p><p>Niall breaks, and Michael considers him no longer delicate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Butterflies

Niall is very much like a butterfly, Michael decides.

Michael revisions his childhood of scraped palms and bruised knees from trying to catch the insects graced with beauty. He remembers keeping empty mason jars, only to fill them with colourful tenants bodied with wings that were delicate like whispers of love. Michael thinks of how fascinated he was with butterflies, and he pinpoints those interests on Niall.

Niall is all thin lips that are full with enthusiasm, shaggy dyed hair with threaded silkiness, cobalt eyes glazed with golden and turquoise, dilated pupils filled with love, animated voices and actions, pale skin with a blush radiating from it, squinted eyes of happiness, delicate body, a sugary sweet atmosphere, colourful personality; everything Michael found in the traces of butterflies.

Niall is excited, his hands painting vivid pictures in the air, eyes wide and emphasis on every syllable. He talks about how he's inherited the offer on a new project that he's been studying since year one of college; it's something he's always dreamed of. His smile is bright and pulled to its limits, almost as if it's painful, and his cheeks should be cramping, but he continues to quietly tell Michael every inch of information, careful not to leave anything out. Michael responds at the right time, enough enthusiasm in his voice to fuel Niall to keep talking.

Michael remembers that his jars never kept the true beauty of the butterflies that he'd see when they were free in the breeze. When they were confined in the tight spaces it limited their movement, but that didn't matter because the beauties were  _his_ , something he could keep.

Niall is mid-sentence about how he'll take Michael to a convention about the project when the bell on the door behind Michael chirps.

Niall's eyes grow wider, a new light reverberating in them. His blush grows deeper, and Michael doesn't need to turn around to know that Louis has walked in.

Niall's smile softens when Louis walks over, voice hushed and kiss even quieter.

All Michael can remember is how he once tripped over the root of a tree, sending his jar occupied with the loveliest butterfly he'd ever see across the sidewalk. He's left to watch the colour bleed through the sky, and the image of the butterfly to glimmer on the fragments of glass.

Niall is very much like a butterfly, Michael concludes.

Out of reach and beautiful.


	2. Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall finally breaks.

Hearts don't break. They don't shatter like the novels tell the reader; they beat off-course. Each pulse sends a reverberating emptiness throughout its fleshy shell, no emotion coursing through the arteries that have gone cold from sadness.

Niall's heart pulses unevenly with each step he takes on the pavement, Michael staggering beside him. His heels dig ruthlessly into the hard material, wishing desperately to have been face-planted, dead on the cold surface. Michael could feel the desperation radiating of the boys shuddering frame. He felt as if it was his job to console the other boy, but the older seemed to find the sympathy in bottles of bitter liquids more effective than hugs and kind words.

"Tonight's beautiful."

Michael was being honest for once this night, not trying to attempt to break the solid silence. Michael thought he saw the older boy glance silently at the sky that held the blankets of stars in the sombre sea of night, but Niall merely shrugged his shoulders. Michael saw -  _felt_ \- how frigid Niall's demeanor was at the moment, the anger and self-pity heavy around him. Michael thought about grasping Niall's hand in his and whispering to him that it all was going to be okay, but he knew Niall wasn't looking for that. Niall was, too busy analyzing every structure they passed, eyes squinted and reading the neon signs that flickered and buzzed warmly. Oh, how Michael wanted to be warm like the heated plasma running throughout the plastic tubes.

The weather was harsh but mellow enough to bear the walk they were taking. The wind purled at them, pushing their hair in awkward places, including eyes, and the bitter cold seeped into the open parts of their jackets and jumpers. Michael had his hands stuffed in his pockets, jacket collar up and shoulders hunched, but Niall was gripping the ends of his jacket sleeves in his hands, shoulders straight and back shuddering slightly. It began to sprinkle glass shards of arctic rain, but Niall refused to put his hands in his pockets, numbing his fingers even more.

"Niall, what are we doing?"

Niall didn't answer, he filled the air with quiet sighs. Michael was about to question his actions when he was pulled into the stairway of a building.

Michael shuddered, the cement walls of the stairway were even colder than the outside.

Their conjoined footsteps echoed around the walls as they grew closer to the top floor, the floor which Michael had no idea what was abounded on it. His inquiries were quickly answered when Niall pulled the emergency door open, something close to a smile faint on his chapped lips.

It was the rooftop of a building, but it held a small bar in the far right corner. Bodies huddled under the plastic drapes that were set up over the bar for cover from the piercing rain. Niall pulled him closer to an electric fire pit. The inside was filled with marbles and clear pebbles that reflected the miraculous colours of the open fire beautifully. The fire hissed at the pelts of rain but remain lit.

The air Michael sucked in was cold, despite the fire that tried to embrace him in warmth, "The city really is beautiful, isn't it?"

The city gleamed below them in small specks; the rain glistened on the marble walls and dark windows that reflected the traffic lights below. The usual bustling sound was lowered down to a dull roar because of the wind. Niall's cheeks were flushed and his lips were numb. He refused to speak, the feeling of rage and defeat boiling in the pit of his throat.

He could still visualize the horrific moment that had been seared into his eyelids when he looked down below at the streets. He could see the blue of Eleanor's shirt in the car lights, the brown of Louis' hair in the muddy puddles at the corners of allies, the red of Louis' face in the stop lights when he kissed Eleanor. He remembers the way Louis blushed and eagerly pulled Eleanor into him. He remembers the way Eleanor thread her knobby fingers into his hair and kissed back with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Niall remembers his heartbreaking, and so does Michael, but everything seems to blur and turn into careless whispers of heartless emotions to Niall.

As the wind purred in his ear, Niall thought that maybe -  _maybe_  - he wasn't the main character in Louis' story. Louis was always  _too_  late,  _too_  cross,  _too_  tired of him to be with Niall. When this would happen, Niall would come running to Michael, tears streaming down his pretty face, lips sputtering, and face on Michael's chest.  _"I wish I loved you instead,"_ was whispered into Michael's shoulder when they'd embrace, and Michael always listened to those words. Michael liked to think that his love for Niall was something wild, like a wildflower - a flower that was untended and unintended - that grew in the midst of the woods just by looking up at the sun, but it seemed to grow higher with Niall's tears.

Michael ignores the feeling of wanting to ravish Niall on the roof of the club because this is serious, and he needs to focus, but the way Niall keeps biting his lips and turning to Michael as if he want to say something fuels his instincts.

"Niall, are you okay?"

"No; I'm angry and cold."

One of Michael's favorite thing to do was help Niall. In a second, Michael was draping his jacket over Niall's. Niall's skin burned with electric shocks from the warmth that soaked into his open skin. Niall peered to look up at Michael, wide eyes looking straight into the eyes that looked down and vacuumed up every movement he made. Niall's eyes reflected the lights, and all Michael wanted was to be those lights.

"I love you."

It felt like a nanosecond stuck in eternity. Michael flinched, body stepping back before recovering its stance. His eyebrows knit together before he smiled weakly and engulfed Niall in the hugs they'd share in a time like this. Michael's arms wrapped securely around Niall's thin neck; Niall's arms loosely holding Michael's middle, head pillowed on his chest. "You're just saying that because you're hurt. You don't love me, you-"

"Shut up, and love me back."

Niall's voice cracked at the end, a silent sob escaping his open mouth. Crystal despair slowly leaked from his glazed eyes. His face was twisted in pain - so, so much pain - and broken hope. The tears tainted his cheeks in wet tracks, and Michael doesn't know what caused him to wipe the tears away with his lips softly.

He holds Niall close, knowing that he shouldn't be this happy to be touching him more than just holding hands or hugging. It feels like Niall shatters with every exhale he pitifully sobs, and Michael hushes him with his lips, ignoring the looks from the shielded bar occupants, and instead focuses on the increase of rain. Their clothes are soaked, mainly Michael's because he refuses to take back his jacket, the sparks coursing trhough his veins are keeping him warm, and he cares for Niall instead.

Kissing Niall is like drinking cold strawberry milk on a hot summer day, or drinking mint hot chocolate on a Winter night, everything that fits together and Michael  _loves_  it.

__ _

Niall tastes like expensive beer and spearmint.

Michael tries to ignore the fact that the kiss is wet, the occasional tear slipping in between the crevices of their traveling tongues, making the kiss salty and awkward, but that keeps them going. They travel down the sidewalks, prodding fingertips, lips, and all, underneath the perilous sky and lemon rearl constellations.

Sobs vacate the places moans should be, but failed to make it. They're problems that shouldn't have existed, lips that shouldn't have met.

Michael tries to ignore the fact that Niall is in pain, and hesitantly kisses him while Niall hungrily, almost desperately, kisses him back.

It's lifeless and thrilling all at once, but the feeling of regret still hangs heavily in the back of their throats.

They make it to Michael's back safely, hands still gripping and tongues still dancing. Michael focuses on how Niall makes his skin prickle in excitement, and Niall focuses on the way Michael's hands hold him carefully, almost as if he'd break and shatter, and Niall partially believes that if Michael does let go he'll fall apart. Michael pulls back, and Niall scrambles after his face desperate please leaving his lips.

"Are you sure you want to? I, we, don't-"

Niall grips Michael's sharp jaw, eyelashes fluttering and dripping with tears, "Make me forget."

And Michael does.

Michael feels like he tastes a faint Louis on Niall's lips, but he licks and bites on the creamy column of Niall's throat, moans when he's supposed to. He holds Niall like Louis never did: adoringly and careful like Niall's made of expensive porcelain. And Niall digs crescents into Michael's shoulders, but he still revolves around Louis despite the gravitational pull of Michael.

And just like that, they finish the night.

__ _

They're covered in the heady scent of last night, shamelessly letting the scent linger on their clothing. Louis notcies when Niall and Michael return to their, Niall and Louis', complex.

Louis' eyes are swollen, regret laced into the blotches and dark circles under his eyes. He desperately clings onto Niall when he unlocks the door, but Niall's face doesn't falter. He remains poker-faced, body stiff under Louis'. Louis seems to think they're the only ones in the spacious entryway, but his eyes, despite their inability to open properly, spot Michael standing behind Niall. Lanky limbs down at his side in an awkward stature. Louis is about to thank him for finding Niall; the corners of his lips twitch, along with his right eye, and he's inhaling once more.

Louis is tackling Michael in a matter of seconds. Angry shouts attracting the eyes of the neighbors or pedestrians. He tries to knock the boy to the floor, but Niall doesn't allow him.

"Louis stop."

Louis' snarl dies down, and his fist weakly clench, shoulders hunched and breath shallow. His fists land pitifully on the frame of the complex beside Michael's head, "I'm sorry."

Michael doesn't make an attempt to move, he just stands there, neck pulled back and head tilted upwards to avoid Louis' heavy breathing. It was difficult to see Niall from the awkward angle his head was in, but he could feel how defiant Niall was.

"I'm sorry." Louis repeated again.

Niall straightened his back, making his non-existent shoulders pull back, "Louis, get off Michael."

And Louis complies slowly, pushing himself up off the wall before racing over to grasp Niall's forearm. His swollen eyes forcibly open wider to let tears escape the ducts, "I'm so sorry, it was a mistake, I- I didn't mean to, honestly! I-"

It took only a second. A mere passing of time for Niall to pull his free hand back and to punch Louis in the jaw. The crack and sound of knuckles on smooth skin echoes throught out the open doorway.

Betrayal and anger - so much anger - raidated off Niall as he took his turn to shout. He cursed loudly, jabbing a finger at the crumpled Louis, tears rushing down his reddened cheeks. Insults and accusations of every kind left Niall's open lips, slamming an invisible force deep into Louis' heart.

Michael took this oppurtinity to pull the screaming Niall off the steps and towards the open street. His throat was rubbed raw from the fury of betrayal, tears wet with despair, and heart beating hopelessly on the lies Louis shouted desperately back to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Niall wished he could believe those words. Wished that he could wrap those words around his heart and trust that Louis wouldn't shatter him again, but he couldn't. Niall's heart was frail and light, made of glass, and he hid that behind his smiles and boisterous laughs. But Louis broke that, broke the promise of forever and no harm. His heart was shattered under the weight of hopeless lies, the thin string snapping and sending his glass heart to the floor in a rush, but Michael was there, open palms ready to catch the gentle antique.

His hands were soft and warm, unlike Louis' rough ones. Michael was there to soften the blow of heartbreak, and Niall felt himself slowly drifting towards the younger boy, finally leaving Louis' gravitational field and entering his.

Michael could tell because Niall's delicate heart was slowly mending itself back together with the help of his hands.

When Niall breaths into Michael's neck he feels strong, not delicate.


End file.
